In the Darkness Hope Prevails
by Collett-et-Noir
Summary: She knew deep down he was just a frightened little boy, that he couldn’t really be a murderer. At least, that’s what she told herself. She fought off the urge to be frightened of him, trying to catch a glimpse of a memory of what he once was.


**Disclaimer: All characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling...**

**A/N: I got the idea for this story after watching some angry Japanese people have a sword fight, as bizarre as that sounds. It's a bit gory/creepy at the start, but it gets a little better, I hope... **

**Prologue**

He tried to rationalize everything, tell himself that they had to die, if they didn't they'd kill others... That didn't stop him from remembering the pleasure he took in their deaths, the sheer elation he felt each time his sword sliced through their bodies, blood cascading out of them in thick, oozing puddles.

He remembered the final battle; everyone had ridden so much on his victory. They never thought it would end the way it did. Of course he killed Voldemort, piercing his flesh with the tip of his sword, and then sliding it into his black little heart up to the hilt. He couldn't stop there- he didn't want to. The need to make sure none of them survived overpowered him to such an extent that each time he confronted them the pure fury surging through his veins, lusting for revenge, took over his entire being.

Nothing was the same. They'd killed his parents, his best friend, and so many others... It was his right, his goddamn entitlement to take revenge, to make them pay. He'd replaced the need to grieve with the need to kill. But he still swore to himself that his bloodlust hadn't overtaken his humanity, that what he did was justified, a means to an end.

He didn't know how much he hurt her. He didn't know that she cried herself to sleep every night, silently begging a higher power to bring him back. She was searching for him- it wasn't hard. Just follow the deaths; it was as if he left a trail of mutilated bodies, each one leading her closer to him.

She knew deep down he was just a frightened little boy, that he couldn't really be a murderer. At least, that's what she told herself. She fought off the urge to be frightened of him, trying to catch a glimpse of a memory of what he once was. He was a hero- her hero. She had loved his kindness, his bravery, loyalty... but most of all his humanity. She wondered if it was still inside him, she prayed it was. It was the only thing that kept her searching, kept her struggling to find him again.

**Part One – Confrontations and a Knife in the Dark. **

"Would you like that coffee to go luv?" A plump woman wearing a hairnet operating the cash register asked, balancing a cigarette between her chipped, over-made lips.

"Yes," she simply replied, accustomed to the odd looks and whispers she received from the small-time town's folk.

She paid for her drink, using the opportunity to stretch her legs before they were confined to the dank imprisonment of the beat-up truck she had bought from some farmers at the last village. Just as Harry could remain hidden trailing Death Eaters across the country, she remained concealed as well, changing vehicles and using false names at run-down motels.

She opened the glove box, pulling out a map of the United Kingdom and observing it carefully. It showed a trail of red dots, locations where Harry had fought and killed. She had found out about most of them second hand, despite the Ministry's inability to capture Harry and impede him, the Daily Prophet always caught wind of Harry's victims, and the stench of rotten corpses they expelled.

She knew she was getting closer, closer than she had ever been before. Her heart sunk deep into her chest... it was dark; maybe she should park the truck and wait until tomorrow.

'_Tomorrow would be too late.' _

Now that she had gotten so near to achieving what she had so desperately wanted to all these months, she wasn't sure she could go any further. What would she do if she saw him, and would happen? Would she embrace him, tell him everything was alright and that she would take care of him? She didn't know if she could.

Sighing, she folded the map and placed it back into the glove box. Harry couldn't be any further than Dover, about three miles from the pit-stop she had taken respite at. She had followed him since Aberdeen; it was too far to stop now. She longed to hold him, to wrap her arms around him and feel his warmth again... she didn't know if she still could, but she wasn't going to miss the chance. At least if she found him she could tell him he wasn't a killer, that she still loved him.

Hermione picked up the guest book, observing it carefully and yet wearily. This was the last motel for miles; if Harry wasn't camping here she'd have to start looking in barns, ditches, deserted manors...

_**February 3rd – 2000 – Mr. James Evans – Room 14**_

'_James Evans? Real inconspicuous Harry...' _Hermione had almost smiled, if she wasn't terrified out of her mind.

Treading on the cold stone foot path, she watched as the numbers on the doors increased. Finally she reached a crusty blue door with the paint peeling, reading a lonely '14' in fake gold plating.

'_Should I knock?'_ Hermione wondered, deciding instead to slip the wand from her sleeve, whispering, "Alohomora," before sliding the door open, wand still gripped.

He was lying in bed, apparently asleep... she had to do a double take to realize that it was really him. She silently walked over to his still form, bending down ever so slowly until her face was just above his. He had been bloodied and brutalized, and there were large haunted circles under his eyes. She timidly reached out her hand, wanting to feel his skin again, to touch his face and remember how angelic it once was.

Suddenly his eyes shot open and he grabbed her wrist, turning her over so that she was on her back, a knife pointing to her throat. He sucked in a breath, blinking slowly as realization dawned on his face. She was crying now, but despite the tears she managed to keep eye contact, refusing to move partly from fear, partly from determination.

"If you're going to kill me... just do it already," She choked out, the pressure from his knife digging into her neck. He scowled, lessening his grip as he climbed off her chest, his weapon still pointing directly at her.

"Come to send me to Azkaban?" Harry barked, his mind screaming at him to embrace her, but his outstretched arm disagreeing.

"I left the Aurors months ago. Harry, I- I've..." she trailed off, uncertain what to say.

"Been following my moves eh? I guess you really are as clever as everyone always thought. Not clever enough to leave a murder alone, though." He finished darkly.

"Harry, we've all killed, but you-you don't have to keep doing this!"

"Really?" He laughed, but it was hollow and bitter, "What can I go back to Hermione? Should I confess my sins and tell them I'm reformed?" Harry snarled, mentally pushing her away. He didn't want to do this, but he had to. It was survival.

"I'm here Harry... I'm not saying you hand yourself over to the authorities, I just want..." Hermione spoke quietly, frowning. She felt a sudden pang of anger, her teeth clenched as she looked up at him angrily.

"You're not the only one that ended up hurt Harry, I lost my parents too you know! And then I had to lose both of my best friends," She held back a sob, her hands shaking.

He simply frowned, taking in her words.

"What do you want from me?" He asked resignedly.

"I just want to be with you Harry... we can go away, just end this madness and be happy again," she pleaded desperately.

"Hermione... we have nowhere to go, Aurors have tabs on every time I apparate. And how can I be happy, with all the terrible things I've done?"

"The border is close, once we get into France we just have to go South, I know some people there that can get us passports... Harry, I know you've killed, but it's over now, okay?" Her voice cracked, tears staining her cheeks.

"Please, tell me it's over now..." She begged, finally letting her desperation take over.

He watched as Hermione cried, and he felt helpless. He wanted to believe that they could escape, that they could be happy again... but could it really ever work? Slowly, he crawled to her edge of the bed, awkwardly but firmly wrapping his arms around her shaking form.

"It's over, please don't cry Mione, it's over... it's really over. Everything will be okay," he was crying too now, letting all his grief and rage bubble to the surface as they clung to each other.

**Part Two – Happiness is Within Reach **

The next morning he woke up with the sunlight steaming through the windows, stinging his red eyes. It took him a moment to remember why Hermione was clinging to him in her sleep, his initial impulse to gut her on the spot. He nudged her gently, slightly nervous of her presence.

"Hermione... wake up. Its dawn, we have to get out of here," She blinked sleepily, forcing herself to sit up.

"We can stop at a garage and get some breakfast, and pick up a car. Then we can take a barge over the border to France, but you have to get up now, we don't want to get caught," Harry watched her sympathetically. It felt so surreal to have her there, to feel hope again.

"Okay," she yawned, stretching as she dumped herself out of bed.

"We're really going to do this... aren't we?" Harry breathed, voicing his thoughts.

"Yes... once we get away we won't have to act like fugitives any more, Harry we'll be free." Hermione smiled tiredly at him.

"Free..." he let the word slip of his tongue quietly. He didn't need to kill anymore, he could exist with just her company, it was enough to live for, enough to stop what he was doing and delicately nurture the fragile relationship she had re-offered him. She would be his rock, his sanity and compassion, and for her- he would wake up each morning and be there with her. It didn't sound like much, but it was all he could offer her right now, and to Hermione it meant the world.

**A/N: Hey, I guess I wrote something sad after writing such random crazy crap in my other story 'The Neurotic Intern Jamboree'... I hope you liked it, if you want, please review. **


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